


The Kiss at the End of this Tale

by sarcasmandirony



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Human, Alternate Universe - Library, M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-03-26
Updated: 2013-03-26
Packaged: 2017-12-06 13:13:05
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 6,595
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/736093
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sarcasmandirony/pseuds/sarcasmandirony
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>A library tries to cultivate the love for books in the heart of young children, parents treat it as a day care, Stiles is a judgmental librarian and Derek is a moody volunteer.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Kiss at the End of this Tale

**Author's Note:**

> I don't own the Simpsons quote lost somewhere in this. In other news, I tried to keep my verb tenses in check, I really tried, but I think they won again. I'll get you next time.

Stiles was busy cataloging some new books when a man coughing distracted him from the task at hands.

Lifting his eyes from the desk stacked with papers, the view Stiles got was a quite torturous one, eyes first catching the man’s big calloused hands, long fingers cradling his belt buckle and the other one supporting his weight against the counter. Then they caught his abs, ripped even under the light grey henley and holy god, Stiles had never seen abs like that in real life before. Bringing the henley down and exposing even more of the man’s bare chest is a pair of sunglasses and for an instance Stiles wonders how tanned skin would feel under his tongue while outlining the man’s collar bone.

The face wasn’t so bad itself, despite the scowl the man was wearing, stubble covering his angular jaw and cheek bones looking like they could cut through adamantium. His eyes were this beautiful mixture between brown, green and hazel, staring directly at him. At Stiles. Who’s blatantly staring with an open, watering, mouth.

Crap.

“Hi.” Stiles said, stuttering with such a simple word, a smile cracking his mouth open through the nerves pumping through his body.

“I doubt you are paid for _not_ attending people.” The man said in a growl and the smile in Stiles’ mouth disappears along with any attraction he might’ve had towards the man.

“I was working.” Stiles explained, without any real reason, hands motioning towards the messy counter. 

“I’ve been here for five minutes.” He growled.

“Excuse me, do you want something or are you in the habit of bothering hard working folk just for kicks? I mean, not that you don’t need to lighten up because, clearly, you do, but there are better ways. Shooting games, for example. Great to let out steam.” Stiles offered.

If possible, the expression staring back at him turned even sourer, like he had just licked a lemon. Maybe he did once, his face getting stuck like that. And now Stiles is cackling while being the target of a very deadly death glare.

If Stiles wasn’t starting to feel a bit afraid, he might’ve asked how one does that.

God knows Stiles, at least once or twice in his life, would’ve needed it to scare off the occasional bully or to chase away debt collectors. Not that Stiles has any debts, mind you, but he figures it’s one of those skills, like lock picking, which Stiles knows how to do, courtesy of being son of the sheriff, that always come in handy.

“Sunday Story.” The man said, like he can’t stand staying there any longer.

“What?” Stiles asked, certain he must’ve heard wrongly.

Sunday Story is part of a project the library is developing, to rekindle the love for books in the hearts of young children, although most parents until now are clearly going to use it to leave their kids somewhere safe, for free, while they’re out having a nice romantic gateway or just some good old fashioned alone time, of the sexy variation, while leaving their devil spurts at the care of another. Stiles can’t quite imagine that grumpy man in front of him to actually be good with children. Actually, he might even scare them a little.

Stiles wouldn’t blame them, with the whole male model slash gang leader vibe he has going on.

“I’ve came to volunteer for Sunday Story.” The man sputtered out through gritted teeth, like it physically pains him to talk with Stiles.

The feeling was completely mutual.

So Stiles just shrugged, because, hey, less work for him. “Alright. I’m going to need identification, for our records.”

Stiles typed quickly at his computer, feeling his tongue peeking out of his mouth as his fingers flew across the several keys of the keyboard while Derek Hale, Stiles found out, wondering if he had any relation to library owner Laura Hale, until he figured someone raised in the same home as Laura would at least know how to crack a smile and harbor a sense of humor, which Derek clearly didn’t, answering Stiles questions like they personally offended him.

“Done.” Stiles said as he put in the last data of information, Derek already turning his back and walking away. “It starts next Sunday.” Stiles calls out.

Derek looked back at Stiles over his shoulder, while putting on his sunglasses and pulling the door open, Stiles reminding himself that he was well past the phase where assholes were attractive. “I can’t wait.” He muttered out in the driest tone Stiles had ever heard in his entire life.

Stiles showed his tongue at a closing door, wondering what was about Derek Hale that made him act like a six year old.

\---

“Hey, Stiles, did my brother come by?” Laura asked, resting her bag in the kart pilled with books he was shelving.

Stiles’ heart skip a beat.

“Tall, muscular, dark haired guy with tanned skin, surly brows and harbinger of hatred for all living things?” Stiles asked, grimacing. “Please tell me he’s not really your brother because I’m pretty sure he hates me.”

Laura just threw her head back, laughing. “That’s him, alright.”

“How is that possible? You’re a tsunami of sass, sunshine and evilness, and he’s a complete asshole.” Stiles let out, before realizing that, duh, Laura might not like people referring to her brother in those terms, covering his mouth immediately.

Laura just chuckled again, shaking her head. “It’s alright. I used to live with guy, I know that he might be a little intense.”

“That’s putting it lightly. He looked at me like he wanted to kill me. To ravish my body and leave me for dead. And not in a good sexy way, but in a left with no pulse by the side of the road way.”

But Laura is already turning her back at Stiles. “If he came by, then I’ll be in my office.”

“Laura, I’m afraid for my life! You can’t walk away!” Stiles shouted.

Laura shrugged. “Then I’ll get another receptionist.” And she disappeared into the walls of her office.

Laura Hale was the devil.

“Excuse me.” A little voice said from underneath him, Stiles feeling someone pulling on his plaid shirt, a pull that was both unsure and confident, demanding his attention. He looked down to see a little girl with brown hair and adorable laces.

“Yeah?” Stiles asked.

“This is a library, you have to keep quiet.” And with that, she throttled back to the table she came from.

Stiles let his head fall against a rack, with more force than was probably necessary.

Stiles hated his life.

\---

The weekend came along and with it, the return of one Lydia Martin. He had long outgrown his high school crush on her, but they had become close friends and Lydia was so busy nowadays with her NASA projects that she barely had any time for Stiles anymore. He was proud of her, of course, but sometimes he needed someone in his life to smack some good sense into his very hard head. With a pan.

So, when the doorbell to the McCall residence rang, Stiles paused the game of tekken he was playing with Scott and jumped from his place on the couch faster than Allison could, running towards the door.

“Lydia, you are a vision to sore eyes.” He said, opening the door and noticing the arm around Lydia’s waist. “And you brought Jackson. _Great_.” Stiles added and Lydia sent him a well pointed look that clearly said _behave_. Stiles could behave. “Jackson, hi. I’m happy to see no baseball balls have yet disfigured your only redeeming quality.” Or maybe he couldn't.

Jackson’s expressions constricted, pointing an angered finger at Stiles and turning to Lydia. “See! He started it.”

Lydia sighed, like she couldn't be bothered with their childish behavior, which was very unfair. Stiles was hilarious. “Behave. Both of you.” She added, when Jackson was about to open his mouth.

“Tell that to him.” Jackson said, storming inside.

“Jackson?” Stiles heard Scott say from the living room, his voice equal parts confused, startled and disappointed and Stiles could almost imagine him tilting his head to the side, bewildered.

Lydia rolled her eyes, like she thought they were all lesser peasants she had to deal with.

“You were the one who brought him.” Said Stiles.

“He’s my husband.” Lydia deadpanned, taking off her fuchsia coat and throwing it into Stiles’ receptive arms.

“That’s why I let him in.” Stiles said with a wide smile.

Lydia ignored him and wandered into the living room. “What’s the plan?”

“Pizza and a movie, just like old times. To relax.” Stiles said. “Which reminds me. SCOTT, HAVE YOU ORDERED THE PIZZA YET?”

The helpless cries of a young child flutter down the stairs.

“NO!” Scott shouts back, releasing a whine.

“THEN I’M GOING TO!” With that, Stiles went to grab the phone.

“You’re lucky I love you.” Lydia said.

Stiles sent her a beaming smile and she snorted, leaving the hallway.

“If you don’t keep down the volume, I’m smacking you too.” Allison warned him, her head peeking through the kitchen’s door.

Stiles nodded and started dialing the number to the pizza place, going back to the living room once his order has been taken, only to find Scott and Jackson playing. “Hey” Stiles complained, because him and Scott were in the middle of a game that Stiles clearly reminds pausing “we were playing!”

Scott looked back with wide puppy dog eyes. “Sorry.” He said, returning his attention to the fight happening on screen. “You lost.” He then added, innocently.

Stiles narrowed his eyes. “Traitor.”

“Sit down.” Lydia ordered and Stiles obliged.

“We’re doing a tournament.” Allison offered, entering the room with Vicky in her arms. “She wanted to see you.”

“Cool.” Stiles clapped, eagerly awaiting for his turn and stretching his arms to take Vicky into his arms.

“So, Stiles, I’ve heard your library is opening a day care.” Said Lydia and Stiles couldn't help but hear the veiled insult behind her velvety tone.

Jackson emited a dismissing sound. “Lame.”

“Your pitching abilities are lame.” Stiles retorted with a smirk and a click of his tongue, being offered a stare that could burn him from the inside out.

“Uncle Jackson is the best of his team.” Sweet innocent Vicky said from her place on Stiles’ lap.

“It’s not that kind of pitching, sweetie.” Stiles told her, ignoring the disapproving look Allison sent his way, Scott too focused on the game to indulge in parental matters. “And it’s not my library, I just happen to work there. Laura is the owner. And it’s not really a day care. The library is just trying to help kids rediscover books and during a single day giving parents the chance to dump their responsibilities and burdens on another people and being free to spend the day during whatever in the hell they want while their kids take part in a bunch of different activities. Oh my god, it’s totally a day care!” Stiles shouted, dropping his face on his palms.

Scott chuckled from beside him while furiously pressing some buttons.

Allison turned to Lydia. “You should take Jack. We’re dropping off Vicky.”

Vicky threw her arms up, ecstatic. “A day with Uncle ‘Tiles.”

“Don’t!” Stiles voiced out.

Vicky drops her arms and crossed them across her tummy, pouting.

“Why?” Lydia asks, her eyes sparkling with interest as her attention perked up at the panic in Stiles’ voice, his voice going up a few octaves.

Stiles leaned back against the couch, feigning composure, trying to get out of the corner he just put himself in. “No reason.” He said, hand going up to his mouth only for Stiles to slap it away and Vicky slapped it as well, giggling, like it was some sort of game.

Lydia was looking at him like she bought none of his shit.

“You said he was hot. I even remember the word ‘handsome’ being used.” Scott said innocently, but the sly smile he was sending Stiles’ way showed more than well where his true intentions lied.

“I told you that in confidence.” Stiles complained, feeling only a little bit betrayed by his best friend giving him out to the heartless inquisitor that was Lydia Martin, thinking about revoking Scott’s best friend card. “Besides, I said rugged.”

“What’s the difference?” Scott asked with mild interest.

Stiles sighed, exasperatedly. “Handsome is when you look yourself in the mirror all day, kind of like Jackson.” Stiles said.

“Hey!” Jackson objected, smacking Stiles in the head over Scott, as he lost the game.

Stiles kicked his ankle and before Jackson could counter attack, Lydia coughed, ending the dispute, just like that.

Allison got up and Scott handed her the remote. “Scott, take Vicky before Stiles drops her.” She said before sitting back down and starting a fight with one of the CPUs.

“Although I wouldn’t have a hard time imagining Derek practicing his deep scowls in front of the mirror for hours, in order to achieve a maximum fear factor. Anyway –“ Stiles brushed those images off his mind, equal parts ridiculous and adorable, which was just ridiculous in a whole new other light. “ – Anyway, rugged we look at him. At that tanned skin, slick black hair, muscled forearms, bulging chest. The images of his strong features staying with a person even after he’s gone, the angled curves of his jaw while you’re in bed, how his stubble will feel against your skin –“

“Ew, Stiles.” Scott objects, placing both hands over Vicky’s ears, who is now watching the fight on screen.

“Enough. We don’t need to hear your wet dreams, Stilinski.” Jackson scolders.

“So, what’s the problem?” Lydia asked, starting to look bored.

“He’s the biggest jackass I’ve ever known, probably even worse than Jackson. Yeah, it’s possible. I wouldn’t have believe it before today, either.” Jackson growled beside Lydia, the woman placing a hand on his knee, as if to steady him. “I don’t even know if he can laugh or crack a joke. I bet he’s brain is even wired wrong. But that’s not the point. The point is, hide your kids and don’t take them even near the library because Derek Hale is a scary, angry man and he’ll scar your kids for the rest of their life.”

Lydia rests her head with one hand, the other wandering along the arm of the couch.

“If more kids show up, the more staff will be needed to take care of them all.” Lydia said and it wasn’t a question in the slightest, a wicked smile dancing around her lips, like Stiles’ pain amused her.

Stiles didn't answer that but, apparently, his face gave away all the answer Lydia needed and Stiles wondered why are all the women in his life perceptive and evil.

“Good.” Lydia said, turning to Allison, who had just won her battle, dropping the game controller on the couch and high fiving Scott, a moment of distraction Vicky took as an opportunity to get out of her father’s lap and wandering to her spot at the corner, where some of her toys lied. “Double date at the alley, this Sunday.”

“Just like old times.” Allison retorted with a sweet smile. “What do you think, Scott?”

For a moment, Scott’s silent battle between ruining Stiles’ life and spending time with Jackson was visible by the amount of time he took to answer, seeming to make up his decision when his eyes laid on Stiles’ pleading expression.

“Why not?” He shrugged.

“I hate you all!” Stiles shouted with a pointed finger as he grabbed the remote, taking all of his frustration on fictional characters, just like society expects.

\---

“You’re late.” Stiles said when Derek came in, holding up a cup of coffee that’s releasing hot steam into the cold winter air breezing inside the heated library through the open door, sending shivers down Stiles’ spine.

Derek stopped, eyebrows setting into his ever present scowl.

“Oh, please, stop looking like someone run over your puppy. Laura and I were the ones that went through all the trouble of preparing the station.” Stiles accused.

“That’s your job.” Derek offered blankly.

Stiles rolled his eyes.

“It’s good to know chivalry is lost on you.” Stiles said, putting all the years of experience in saying apparently inconspicuous sentences as insults he had under his belt to good use, motioning for Derek to follow him.

“It’s you who owes me an apology.” Derek told him, tone harsh and sharp.

Stiles turnrf around, gaping. “Excuse me. I don’t care how hot you are or how you could probably murder me using just one finger or even if Laura is your sister, but there’s no excuse for being a rude, pompous asshole just because I’m not a mind reader and thus didn’t notice you scowling at me.”

Derek shoved the drink he had been holding, and not drinking, into Stiles’ chest, almost propelling him to fall.

“Take it.” He muttered and something in his tone made Stile’s fingers grip unto the warm plastic cup. “And I said ‘hi’. You just ignored me.” And then he went around Stiles. “I’ll found the way to the station by myself.”

“Wait, I can take you there.” Stiles stuttered, feeling a bit guilty. He knew how absorbed and detached he could get while working.

“No point.” He said over his shoulder, in a tone loud enough for Stiles to hear, but low enough not to disrupt the few people consulting and looking for books or browsing the library computers. “I’ll just follow the badly hanged balloons.”

Stiles felt his anger returning, as if it had just been put in the backburner of his mind at the improbable possibility of Derek being capable of any niceness. Off course, any niceness Derek Hale might exhibit was probably to make other people feel shittier and so, Stiles’ anger was back, bubbling to the surface of his skin. “So I’m not perfect, but you aren’t winning any charmer of the year awards either.” He shouted.

Turning around, he was met with judgmental looks that made his cheeks flush in equal parts embarrassment and fury, because this was all Derek’s fault.

When he tasted the coffee, his anger only heightened, after the initial shock.

“Laura.” He muttered, thinking for a moment of dumping the remains of his favorite coffee in the garbage, but after much debate, ruled against it.

He might hate Derek, but he wasn’t about to waste a cup of his favorite drink, the nectar of the heavens, because of him.

No freaking way.

So he drunk small gulps of his coffee at a time while performing his desk work, letting the sweet liquid with just a hint of bitterness warm his stomach. Soon after he dropped the empty cup in the trash bin, parents starting to arrive to leave their hell spawns with Stiles and waving their goodbyes, some taking quite a while at it, before going to rekindle their love or bust their asses taking double shifts and viewing the project the library was hosting as a way to save money. And, of course, making Stiles suffer.

There were reasons for all tastes and salaries.

“’Tiles.” He heard a familiar voice chant.

Stiles looked at the library door, Vicky running towards him with a contagious laughter that made him smile widely and leave his place at the counter, running to welcome his goddaughter into his arms.

“How is my favorite niece?” He asked her.

“Good.” She said.

And of course, Stiles felt a kick in the chin and he had to fight his body instinct to open his arms. “Fuuuudge.” He muttered, only vaguely aware of the underage people now in the library.

“Good reroute, Stiles.” Lydia’s voice said.

Stiles looked from Jack, wondering what asshole names their kids after himself, to Lydia and Allison. “Where are Scott and Jackson?” He asked.

“In the car. Scott would feel sorry for you, and Jackson would make fun of you. We’ll mock you as well, but you’ll take it better than if it was Jackson doing the mocking.” She said.

“Great friends you are.” Stiles accuses.

“You love us anyway.” Allison chipped in with a smile. “Bye, Vicky, don’t bother uncle Stiles too much.” She waved.

“Behave.” Warned Lydia, looking at him instead of her terrorist of a son, which was very unfair.

With Vicky still in his arms and pushing Jack by the collar, Stiles led the kids towards the station in time to hear Derek’s sigh float out of the room and into the hallway, followed by a moment of silence.

“So, you actually helped making this?” He asked, and there was a teasing tone to his voice and, for a moment, Stiles wonderred if it wasn't just his imagination. He also weighted listening in on their conversation, but he can’t leave the kids waiting. Besides, the devilish things might rat him out later, so he kept walking towards the door.

“Here are some of the kids.” Stiles said, announcing his presence, placing Vicky on the floor and waving the rest of the children inside the spacious room.

He couldn't quite believe his eyes when Derek crouched down and _smiled_ at the kids. And oh god, people so unpleasant and rude shouldn’t be allowed to smile like that. It does things to Stiles, sexually arousing things, which were totally misplaced in this time and place.

“Stiles, go see if more children arrive.” Laura ordered.

“Hum?” Stiles murmured as he forced himself to take his eyes from Derek who’s talking with the kids and they seem to be actually listening to him, to look at Laura and at the knowing smile playing around her lips. God, he hated that smile. That smile usually came at Stiles’ expense. At the expense of his suffering. “On it.” He muttered, after rolling his eyes at Laura and getting out of the room as fast as humanly possible.

He was definitely not well.

Derek probably drugged his coffee. Or put venom on it. Oh god, Stiles was going to die. Death by coffee. It was going to be a thing. Though, Stiles figured, there were far worse ways to die – at least he would go with a warm stomach and happy taste buds.

When Mrs. Anderson arrives to fill his place at the reception counter, because of course a bunch of kids showed up and of course Stiles was the only employee desperate and dumb enough to get himself blackmailed by the Queen of Hale (ah) to do the work no one else was stupid enough to want.

Apart from Derek Hale – who enjoyed eating the wrecked dreams of homeless children for breakfast. Or maybe not. The jury was still deliberating on that end and, since the jury was mainly composed by one Stiles Stilinski, one could say the jury was really confused by all the conflicting evidence.

Evidence one – Derek had been an humorless and unfriendly asshole towards Stiles.

Evidence two – all of today.

Really, between wearing a wicked witch mask when the kids where assaulting Stiles with water guns, shouting “I’ll get you, my pretties, and your little dogs too!” with a high pitched voice and his seemingly endless patience towards them, it was almost like Stiles’ life was a complete cosmic joke. Like he'd found himself in the twilight zone, in reverse day, in freaking planet bizarre. Because there was no way he had been so dead wrong.

Might Derek Hale be nice, funny and kind instead of a frowning grumpy robot?

And as he posed himself with that question, Stiles was faced with the daunting realization that the problem wasn't with Derek. The problem was with him.

Derek Hale hated him.

And Stiles might be a little bit in love.

Fuck. His. Life.

\---

“I hate my life. I hate everything. At least Lydia just didn’t knew I existed.” Stiles whined to Vicky who, thankfully, was far too young to really understand what he was saying and so, can neither pity or make fun of him. “Why does uncle Stiles always harbor feelings for people far off his league.” He added, tickling his niece while Scott was starting up the PS3.

A pair of hands took the giggling child away.

“Stiles, stop filling my daughter’s head with non sense.” Allison said.

“Wanna play more with ‘Tiles.” Vicky complained, making grabby hands to her favorite uncle.

“You’ll play more with uncle Stiles when he doesn’t come here at the late hours of the night to complain about his love life.” Allison said. “Or the lack of one.” She added because she was evil, taking Vicky away.

“We all love you ‘Tiles.” She chanted, innocently, as if to reassure him.

“Love you too, Vick.” He told her before the child disappeared into the corridor.

And then Scott shoved a remote in his hands. “Take it.” He said and Stiles did, turning in the couch to stare at the TV and at the COD start up menu staring back at him. “Killing people and blowing up stuff will brighten your mood.”

“You should go on television to spread your knowledge. I suggest Oprah.”

“We have chocolate ice cream in the fridge.” Scott offered instead, with a sly smile.

“I love you.” Stiles said and actually gave Scott a wet kiss on the cheek before darting towards the kitchen and running back in enough time to still be faced with the dreaded loading screen. “Seriously, best friend ever. I’m giving you the best friend insignia back, don’t worry.” He said, removing the lid and dipping the spoon into the soft cream, stuffing a bulky amount of chocolate ice cream into his mouth.

“Wait.” Scott said, turning to look at him with a confused look. “When did I lost it?”

“Never mind.” Stiles said with a dismissive motion of his hand, laying the ice cream on top of the coffee table. “Let’s play.”

Scott just shrugged and in no time the only sound that came from any of them where _die_ and _headshot_ and the rare curse word, Stiles pressing furiously on buttons while his tongue perked out his mouth.

“You know, I think Derek actually likes you.” Allison said from behind them.

Stiles jerked around in the couch so quickly that he wondered how he didn’t sprained his neck, of how absurd, though not unwelcomed, the idea sounded in his ears. Stiles’ half expected Allison to tell him the Easter Bunny was real, too. “I mean, I know the movie was good and he was kind of hot, but really?” He said, sighing at the noise that told him his character had just died.

Allison eyed him weirdly, like she had no idea what he was talking about. Ups.

“Never mind.” Stiles added, before the _what?_ Allison lips was about to form could be spoken out loud. He turned back to the game. “What gave you such a ridiculous idea?”

Allison slumped in the single couch, arm’s length away from Stiles. “Oh, I don’t know. Maybe the way he looked at you when he thought you weren’t looking.”

The idea was so ludicrous, Stiles wanted to laugh. From pain.

“You should go to the eye doctor, then.”

“Stop distracting him.” Scott complained, then, which ended their conversation. Stiles couldn’t help but noticing the slight bump Scott gave him with his elbow. Sometimes, Scott was a really good friend. Neither he missed the way Allison noticed said bump, but remained silent.

He had pretty good friends.

But that didn’t stop Allison’s words, though completely preposterous and laughable, to haunt him through his drive home, or during the night in the comfort of his bed. Or during the remainder of the week.

So he swore to himself that he would pay more attention to the way Derek looked his way in the following Sunday. If until then he harbored a slight glimpse of hope at such an improbably idea, he couldn’t be blamed.

After all, he always was a bit masochist.

\---

“You’re early.” Said Stiles, a hint of surprise spilling unwillingly unto his voice upon hearing the library’s door swung open, knowing it was Derek from hearing his motorcycle roaring outside, the plastic cup sending clouds of steam into the air not escaping Stiles’ attention when he looked up from the computer screen.

Derek stopped mid walk, his hand freezing before placing his sunglasses in the hem of his henley shirt, brows furrowing.

“I thought you could use some help.” Derek said with a harsh tone.

Stiles bit his tongue, a metallic taste tickling at his taste buds as he bit back a striking retort. Antagonizing Derek even further wouldn’t help Stiles’ quest for the lost sparkle in Derek’s deep glare.

“I do.” He stuttered out, instead.

Derek’s eyes widened in sudden surprise, the man clearly expecting a more unfriendly comeback, before the scowl made its return and Derek traversed the rest of the way ‘till the counter, handing Stiles the warm cup.

“Thanks.” Said Stiles, taking a gulp of the hot drink with a humming noise. “I never understood how Laura guessed it at the very first try.”

“She has her ways.” Derek said to which Stiles nodded.

“I’m betting you told her you were coming in earlier today.”

Derek chuckled, and the fact that something Stiles’ said led to that reaction sent his stomach doing somersaults.

“Laura was always one for scheming.” Derek said with a halfhearted shrug, like it was a minor annoyance he had long since gotten accustomed with.

“She’s native of Hale, after all.” Stiles said, motioning for Derek to follow him and taking a gulp of his drink in the meantime.

Derek snorted. “My sister told me you were funny. Clearly, she was wrong.” He said dryly and someone that had just met Derek might’ve been offended, but Stiles had been faced with the full murdering force of Derek’s eyebrows before, so he could hear the hint of humor in his voice, could see the way his face was relaxed behind the stoicism, looking back.

Derek was a man of subtle nuances, he was learning.

“I’m hilarious.” Stiles countered with a grin.

Derek huffed.

Once they got to the spare room turned into a day care turned into a storage room over the week, Stiles dumped the now empty cup in a trash bin.

“Someone worked really hard this week.” Derek noted, stepping into the folders cramped room just behind Stiles.

“Hey, I did.” Stiles argued, shaking a finger around for good measure. “Working in a library is hard labor! Besides, what do you know about work? I bet you spend all day driving around town on your motorcycle, with no helmet, might I add, my dad would love to meet you, by the way, scowling at passing pedestrians.” He said, picking some of the folders up.

For a moment, Stiles could see the internal struggle, the battle between getting angry or not mirrored in Derek’s face and, for an instance, Stiles regreted his words. Though, before he could say anything, Derek ended up settling for a “Cry me a river” and adding “and at least I get a few sighs for my scowls” with a smirk.

So, it was back at shoving how hotter than Stiles he was, right in Stiles’ face.

“Just pick up the damn folders and follow me.” He said without a single hint of humor to his expression, ignoring the confused look being currently carved on Derek’s marble face.

“We don’t have time to file all of this.” He noted, his footsteps echoing behind Stiles down the hallway telling him Derek was following anyway.

“Thank you, Sherlock.” Stiles retorted just before entering an office.

“This is Laura’s office.” Said Derek, sudden realization striking his features and a hint of admiration spilling into his tone.

“Yeah. She’s gonna owe me big time for today.” Stiles spitted out, sending Derek a pointed look that left no doubt for what precisely Laura was going to owe him for.

“Okay.” Derek muttered, his demeanor changing completely, dumping the folder in the desk, which resulted in a loud thud. “What’s your problem?”

“What problem? I don’t have any problems. Not Stiles. This is a problem free zone.” He said, spastically motioning around and hurrying out of the office. “Let’s just ready the room.”

Derek followed him, though he didn’t look totally convinced.

Both of them continued setting up the room and by the time Stiles’ left the room, the hour of the children’s arrival dawning in, they had fallen into a somewhat comfortable silence, after the anger bubbling right under Stiles’ skin and consequent tension dissipated, like their bickering was normal, acceptable – enjoyable, even.

Stiles didn’t knew what to think of that.

Kids quickly swarmed into the library, like bees to a beehive, more kids coming in this time, more parents taking advantage of their initiative, the word about their project travelling from mouth to mouth, the smiles’ on the children faces as they left the library last time being told in book clubs, between the stacks of the supermarket, parents embracing a few hours of freedom without any sort of guilt.

Stiles took a mental note to tell Laura that, maybe hiring a third person would be a good idea.

Talking about Laura, she did graced them with her presence half way through the afternoon, checking on how things were going and smiling proudly, like she had actually done any work, going to their office and not bothering to come back to inquire Stiles about the folders pilled upon her desk.

Stiles congratulated himself for the small victory, although he had the inkling sensation Laura had been playing matchmaker.

Clearly, she shouldn’t leave her day job.

The afternoon went by smoothly, Derek and Stiles managing the wild children with familiar ease, like a lifelong team, an unlikely efficient pair. Stiles restless, spastic and a bit loud. Derek more contained, more calm and yet, not afraid to fool around, to humor the kids, distract them, even, with a wit and a readiness Stiles could never manage.

It was like, despite their differences, they could sense what the other one needed, what they were trying to accomplish and work towards that goal, even when they needed help with something. In a work related manner, that was.

When story time came along, the kids tired enough to just sit down and listen, but not tired enough to start throwing temper tantrums, the tale approaching the prince’s always cheesy declaration of undying, eternal love, Stiles’ eyes never left Derek’s.

And Derek’s eyes, a ray of orange spraying out in a sea of ocean green, never left Stiles’ either during the entirety of the gagging inducing speech and suddenly Stiles was able to see what Allison was probably referring to. There was this spark in Derek’s eyes as he looked at him, his expression resembling one of wonder and admiration, like Stiles was the most beautiful thing he had ever seen.

Clearly, those sunglasses had fucked up his vision.

And just like that, a click went on that sent the wheels in Stiles’ brain turning, a haze in his mind lifting and thoughts, conclusions and inferences he had made over the span of two weeks rearranging around this new piece of information.

Derek knew his favorite coffee, whether he chased the information or the information chased him, Derek had bought Stiles’ favorite drink in the world by his own volition, when it was Stiles that had screwed up, only to once again be greeted with nothing but rocks for his trouble. That act wasn’t to prove his moral superiority, but because he wanted to fix things, because something in that first encounter, regardless of how Stiles had treated him, had stuck with him.

When he smirked just a few moments ago, he was just trying to be flirtatious, though with the skill of a socially awkward lobster.

_Oh God._

Stiles was a dumbass.

Derek was an idiot.

Somehow they were a match made in some kind of heaven – though hell was much more likely.

As the tale ended, Stiles took a quick glance at the clock and left the room, escorting the parents to pick up their kids flock by flock in some kind of a daze and before he noticed, Stiles was left alone by the counter with just Derek by his side.

“Are you okay?” Derek asked, placing a hand on Stiles’ back.

Stiles looked at him and the fact that, somehow, Derek had been able to pick up on Stiles’ internal turmoil just strengthened his new found conclusion, the hand against his back steadying him enough for Stiles to remember how to properly use his lungs.

“Go out with me.” Stiles stuttered, the words spilling out of his mouth like a hypersonic stream of gibberish.

“What?” Derek asked, looking at him with a confused look.

Stiles took a deep breath, trying to calm himself and Derek started drawing small circles in the low of his back, soothing his muscles and relaxing his nerves.

The words that came out next were no more than a whisper, but still felt too loud for his ears in the almost deserted library.

“I like you. In a sexy way. A way that could eventually lead up to sex. You know, after an acceptable amount of dates, of course. Somewhere between three or five. If you want, of course. If you don’t, we can forget this entire conversation ever happened and I’ll buy a cabin in the middle of the woods and live as a hermit for the rest of my days to avoid mockery by your sister.”

“Stiles.”

“Right. Back to the point. I understand if you refuse. I mean, I talk a lot and I’m a bit judgmental and –”

“That’s an understatement.” Derek cut in, rolling his eyes.

“Hey!” Stiles objected, his voice higher now. “Like you’re one to talk. Let me tell you, you don’t have the best of tempers either.”

Derek shot up an eyebrow. “Oh really?” He shrugged. “I guess it helps knowing each other’s faults.” And then added “I know this great biological food restaurant.”

“You have awful taste.” Stiles told him with a snort before grabbing each side of Derek’s leather jacket and pulling him closer, pressing their lips together.

“There’s nothing wrong with my taste.” Derek said into his mouth, brows furrowing.

Stiles’ hand traveled up through the leather, brushing through the prickle of Derek’s stubble and towards his silky hair, tugging at it and pulling him back into a kiss, deeper this time, bathing his tongue in Derek’s taste of coffee and mint and musk, but not in a _ew, I have dirt in my mouth_ kind of way, the combination of them appetizing in a way Stiles wasn’t able to describe.

“I won’t debate that.” He said, licking his bottom lip and getting through the library’s door without giving Derek any time to react, but he was quick on the uptake, Stiles hearing the library’s door swing shut as he ran towards his jeep giggling like a spoiled child, hopping on and opening the window, leaning out of it. “Lead the way.” He shouted at the empty street.

The look Derek gave him while mounting his motorcycle, while putting on his douchy sunglasses (Stiles made a mental note to learn Derek’s usual routes and then tell his dad), was one of regret.

Anyway, he only tried to lose Stiles once, and he didn’t tried that hard, so it was a win.


End file.
